Did you ever keep a diary? Did you ever neglect to write in it? Did you ever resume writing in your diary, just to apologize to it ("Dear Diary, sorry I haven't written in so long"), and then later wonder why you were apologizing to an inanimate object?
Wine + Tylenol PM might make you remember that you did.
Sunday, October 4, 2009
Saturday, May 2, 2009
Thanks strange lady
A strange (I mean, who wears a cowboy hat to the pediatrician, really?) lady gave me the nicest compliment today. She thanked me for having more children because, if my impending arrival is as cute as Erin, then I am contributing to the beauty of the human race.
Friday, December 12, 2008
Thursday, December 4, 2008
Speak Like a (Dread) Pirate (Roberts) Day
I wish I knew the lines of The Princess Bride well enough that, for one day, I could respond (intelligently, mind you) to people only with lines from the movie.
Murdered by pirates is good.
Murdered by pirates is good.
Wednesday, November 12, 2008
Baby Bugaloo
I posted it on my Facebook status. I emailed my friends and family. And now I'm posting it on my blog.
Baby Burns #2 due May 15, 2009.
Phone call, you say? What is this, 2003?
Baby Burns #2 due May 15, 2009.
Phone call, you say? What is this, 2003?
Sunday, August 31, 2008
Better Than Flowers
BPD doesn't bring flowers.
Okay, that's not exactly true. He's brought flowers on a few selected occasions that had very little to do with a momentous event, i.e. our anniversary, my birthday or Valentine's Day.
BPD gets a lot of flack for this. Especially when I see the flowers sitting at the reception desk for another co-worker who is celebrating a momentous day, and super especially on Valentine's Day when the receptionist I'm sure feels more like a florist than a receptionist. I can only ogle, and drool, and seethe.
As I get wiser (read: older), and realize that I will soon be married longer than my parents were, and that other friends and family who were married around the same time I was are now divorced, I'm starting to realize the true meaning of flowers: they are beautiful, they are thoughtful, but they are temporary and their meaning doesn't last longer than the last wilted petal.
In our 12 (yeah, you read that right, 12) years together, BPD has done so many things whose impact has lasted WAAAAY longer than the time between when you get a nice set of flowers and you throw them away because you're embarrassed that such decrepit, moldy flora is still on your desk.
So on this, a day that otherwise means nothing whatsoever, I sit to memorialize the 12 things my husband has done that beat flowers hands down (get it, like a dozen?):
1. Moving from Canada to California to take a chance on a girl you hardly knew.
2. Working at that job you hated to put me through law school.
3. That one time, when we were living in that small house in San Diego with the crappy heater, you let me put my cold feet on you. That is when I knew this was real love.
4. That other time, when we were staying in an airport-adjacent hotel the night before flying out, and you drove all the way home to get my makeup that I forgot.
5. That other, other time, when you flew down to San Diego to rescue me from taking care of a 4 month old when I was feverish, sick, and alone. (of course, I had to call the Menlo Park police to wake your ass up since you wouldn't answer your cell phone, but that's a story for another time)
6. That other, other, other time, when you took a taxi to the Ritz to rescue me. You know what I mean.
7. Being the most patient man in the face of pregnancy hormones which, now I see in retrospect, were off the charts.
8. Being a better father than I even thought you would be. And that's saying a lot, because even at 19, I knew you would make a fantastic dad.
9. Being so supportive of my career, even though it is a tough one for married couples, and an even tougher one for families.
10. For getting into a bar fight that one time over my honor. (I know that never happened, but I believe that it would, if the opportunity presented itself. Or maybe I'm just deluding myself with my little fantasy.)
11. For crying with me and holding me when we lost Maddy. And Hector.
12. For sticking it out for 12 years, for growing up with me, for making me know that what we have is better than a relationship where you send me flowers but don't share your entire life with me.
There's a lot more, of course, but most of them consist of "for going to Taco Bell to get me Crunchy Taco Supremes in the middle of the night" (and believe me, there were a lot of those).
But you get the idea.
Okay, that's not exactly true. He's brought flowers on a few selected occasions that had very little to do with a momentous event, i.e. our anniversary, my birthday or Valentine's Day.
BPD gets a lot of flack for this. Especially when I see the flowers sitting at the reception desk for another co-worker who is celebrating a momentous day, and super especially on Valentine's Day when the receptionist I'm sure feels more like a florist than a receptionist. I can only ogle, and drool, and seethe.
As I get wiser (read: older), and realize that I will soon be married longer than my parents were, and that other friends and family who were married around the same time I was are now divorced, I'm starting to realize the true meaning of flowers: they are beautiful, they are thoughtful, but they are temporary and their meaning doesn't last longer than the last wilted petal.
In our 12 (yeah, you read that right, 12) years together, BPD has done so many things whose impact has lasted WAAAAY longer than the time between when you get a nice set of flowers and you throw them away because you're embarrassed that such decrepit, moldy flora is still on your desk.
So on this, a day that otherwise means nothing whatsoever, I sit to memorialize the 12 things my husband has done that beat flowers hands down (get it, like a dozen?):
1. Moving from Canada to California to take a chance on a girl you hardly knew.
2. Working at that job you hated to put me through law school.
3. That one time, when we were living in that small house in San Diego with the crappy heater, you let me put my cold feet on you. That is when I knew this was real love.
4. That other time, when we were staying in an airport-adjacent hotel the night before flying out, and you drove all the way home to get my makeup that I forgot.
5. That other, other time, when you flew down to San Diego to rescue me from taking care of a 4 month old when I was feverish, sick, and alone. (of course, I had to call the Menlo Park police to wake your ass up since you wouldn't answer your cell phone, but that's a story for another time)
6. That other, other, other time, when you took a taxi to the Ritz to rescue me. You know what I mean.
7. Being the most patient man in the face of pregnancy hormones which, now I see in retrospect, were off the charts.
8. Being a better father than I even thought you would be. And that's saying a lot, because even at 19, I knew you would make a fantastic dad.
9. Being so supportive of my career, even though it is a tough one for married couples, and an even tougher one for families.
10. For getting into a bar fight that one time over my honor. (I know that never happened, but I believe that it would, if the opportunity presented itself. Or maybe I'm just deluding myself with my little fantasy.)
11. For crying with me and holding me when we lost Maddy. And Hector.
12. For sticking it out for 12 years, for growing up with me, for making me know that what we have is better than a relationship where you send me flowers but don't share your entire life with me.
There's a lot more, of course, but most of them consist of "for going to Taco Bell to get me Crunchy Taco Supremes in the middle of the night" (and believe me, there were a lot of those).
But you get the idea.
Monday, August 25, 2008
one of the nice things about having a few extra bucks
when you've had a bad day, pounding headache, everyone just wants wants wants from you such that you can't get your work done, computer crashes, you can't have a cocktail during dinner because your toddler spazzes before you even get in the restaurant -- you can drive yourself to the local little market, and buy the GOOD vodka because this is not the day to go cheap.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
